The Darkest Hours
by Kameka
Summary: A speculation-fic based on the preview for the December 6th episode ("Bullet Proof"): When Zoe is injured on the job, her friends and family must deal with their own feelings and fears. (read "Summary" at the top of the fic for more explanation)


Title: The Darkest Hours  
  
Author: Kameka  
  
Rating: PG for minor language and violence (no more than a Disney film)  
  
Disclaimer: The characters from the show are not mine - no money has been made, don't sue.  
  
Notes: Many thanks to Sxyldy and Nat for helping me figure out just what Zoe's injuries could be. Also: Many thanks to JP, a wonderful beta. Unfortunately, I didn't use much of what she mentioned, so any and all mistakes or problems belong solely to me. I do not know anything about medicine or police procedures, so if there are any mess-ups, once again blame me not anyone else. There's a slight crossover to ER in here, but not so much that you need to know the show.  
  
Summary: A speculation-fic based on the preview for the December 6th episode ("Bullet Proof"): When Zoe is injured on the job, her friends and family must deal with their own feelings and fears. While it probably has nothing to do with actual events and is, no doubt, in direct contrast of the events of the episode itself, my muses felt the need for some resolution based on the preview.  
  
* * *  
  
Part One  
  
Jeannie Garrett sat silently on the sofa in front of the blasting television. In her lap was an open romance, one of Zoe's 'bodice-rippers' that she teased the younger girl about constantly. Stretching slightly, she cast another worried glance towards the clock that hung on the wall of the living room. It was late, almost 9:30 in the evening, and well past the time that Zoe should have come home from another day of hard work. She looked around at the other occupant of the room: the sole male of the house, Clifford Busiek. He had the television going as he worked on one assignment or another for school, his attention fairly evenly divided between the two. The other children were absent, Hannah having gone upstairs, ostentatiously to bed, and Taylor to the privacy of her bedroom so that she could talk to her boyfriend on the telephone.  
  
She looked to the clock again, noting that it was a mere three minutes since the last time she had looked. She debated asking Cliff if his aunt had said she was going to be this late but thought better of it. There was no reason to worry any of the children yet; Zoe was merely running late. She again tried to read her book, only succeeding in re-reading the same paragraph all over again, twice, without any of the printed words actually making sense to her. She stood up with a sigh, stretching her back with a faint grimace as she thought of all the hours she had spent curled up reading when she was younger. With a smile towards the re-teen who had looked up from his assignment, she ventured upstairs, checking in on Hannah before stopping at Taylor's bedroom door.  
  
"Taylor," she called through the mostly closed door, not wanting to intrude into the teenager's sanctuary.  
  
"Come on in, Jeannie," the girl's voice rang out in answer, causing Jeannie to push open the door some more to find Taylor sprawled on her stomach across her bed, one hand on the phone she held to her ear and the other idly flipping through a magazine of some sort. "Are you leaving?"  
  
"No," Jeannie shook her head as she ventured further into the room. "Your aunt isn't back yet. I was wondering if she'd called?"  
  
Taylor began to automatically shake her head before she paused, biting her lower lip guiltily.  
  
"Taylor?"  
  
"Well, about an hour ago there was a beep," she said, referring to the beep that let someone on the phone know when another person called the line, "but no one's called since."  
  
"Who called then?"  
  
"I don't know," she admitted, looking sheepish. "Rhyder was in the middle of this really funny long, involved story and I didn't want to interrupt him."  
  
"It could have been Zoe with a problem," Jeannie said, frowning. "A flat tire or her car broke down and she needed to be picked up."  
  
"Hey, if it were Aunt Zoe she would've called back, right?" Taylor said brightly, grinning.  
  
"I suppose," the older woman considered. "Do you think you could get off now?" She continued before the teenager could begin asking for more time or flat-out refusing. "Jut in case Zoe tries to call; this way Rhyder won't start a long, involved story that you don't want to interrupt."  
  
Taylor conceded the point; telling her boyfriend good night and that they'd meet in the normal place tomorrow before school. She then followed the other woman from her bedroom, having leapt up from her bed in one graceful move and scooped up a handful of magazines to read downstairs. "Do you really think something's happened to Aunt Zoe?" she asked quietly after Jeanne had once again checked on Hannah and they had begun to make their way downstairs.  
  
"I'm sure it's nothing, Taylor," she reassured the now slightly nervous girl. "Your Aunt Zoe knows how to take care of herself," she reminded her with a smile.  
  
"I guess so," Taylor admitting as she flopped into one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs that were in the living room.  
  
Jeannie's smile faded as she turned away from the two children in the living room and made her way into the kitchen, getting diet soda for the young ones and a mug of coffee for herself. She alone of the family, for she did consider the Busieks her family, knew that Zoe's job as a fraud investigator wasn't always the safest around. Zoe had confided in her about the man who had attacked her and Dan while investigating a case around Halloween, the very case that had led Taylor to meeting Rhyder. The man, who had killed his brother years ago, had been desperate to stop anybody from finding the body, or the skeleton that was left, and had begun to vandalize the house he had lived in as a child.  
  
Shaking her head and rebuking herself for thinking morbid thoughts, borrowing trouble as it were, she reentered the living room with the refreshments, receiving absent 'thanks' from both of the younger people as she handed them their sodas. She sat back down on the sofa and lifted the book she had abandoned earlier, hoping to be able to pay attention this time, to the sounds of an argument between Taylor and Cliff about what they should watch. Cliff, truthfully claiming that he had been there first, wanted to keep the Japanime cartoon that was currently playing on. Taylor, on the other hand, was going between whatever happened to be on MTV or one of the reality shows that were so popular now.  
  
She automatically tuned out the argument, well used to it after spending so many years as a close neighbor. She jerked abruptly when the door rang, the book falling from her lax hands into her lap. With another sigh, she pushed her sudden sense of foreboding away and got up to answer the door.  
  
"Mrs. Busiek?"  
  
She paled, one hand groping automatically for the doorknob as she took a step back. "No," she responded faintly. "Jeannie Garrett," she automatically introduced herself before her throat closed against any possible sound.  
  
The uniformed man who stood before her asked: "does a Miss Zoe Busiek live here, ma'am?"  
  
She nodded silently, her eyes automatically seeking the gold badge that was attached to the man's shirt.  
  
"My name is Officer Michael Jacobs, ma'am," he nodded his head respectfully. "Would it be all right if I come in?"  
  
She nodded, as silent as she had been since she had introduced herself, as she stepped backwards unsteadily, only peripherally aware of the policeman before her reaching out to steady her against falling. Instead, her attention was on the deathly silence that filled the room as the two siblings stopped bickering and turned their attention to their visitor, their wide eyes reflecting the same fear that Jeannie could feel in herself.  
  
Officer Jacobs had barely sat down when Cliff asked the question they all wanted to: "Is Aunt Zoe okay?"  
  
The policeman shook his head slightly, obviously trying to figure out how to say what he needed to. The fact that he had mentally rehearsed the entire speech on the way over, that he had delivered similar speeches to other families, never seemed to help him when he was faced with the overwhelming fear present.  
  
"She isn't dead, right?" Taylor broke in with the question, one hand going for her younger brother's as they waited for the answer.  
  
"She's not dead," he assured them, grateful he had at least been able to do that. "Miss Garrett, perhaps it would be better if I spoke to you alone," he tried, hoping that the older woman would agree.  
  
"Mrs.," she automatically corrected even as Taylor and Cliff shook their heads.  
  
"No way!"  
  
"We're not going anywhere," Taylor's icy statement overlapped her brother's outburst.  
  
Officer Jacobs looked towards Jeannie, hoping that she would be able to get them to leave the adults alone. When she merely shrugged and sat back, he sighed.  
  
"Anything that deals with Zoe Busiek affects them, Officer."  
  
"What is her relation to them?" he absently asked, stalling just a little while longer.  
  
"Aunt and guardian," Jeannie replied only to stop speaking when Cliff slammed the book he had been working in shut.  
  
"What aren't you telling us? Where's Aunt Zoe?" Cliff felt a squeeze on his hand and looked gratefully towards Taylor. They may fight a lot, but they were family and would support each other.  
  
"Miss Busiek was taken to the hospital a few hours ago," he admitted reluctantly. "She was injured downtown."  
  
"What type of injured," Taylor broke in. "You mean a sprained ankle or a broken arm, right?" When there was no reply she suddenly sat back looking down at the floor.  
  
"She was shot."  
  
The bald statement seemed to echo through the room along with their stifled gasps.  
  
"But. you said she's alive," Taylor reiterated, her voice sounding more of a little girl instead of the brash teenager and self-assured young woman she was becoming.  
  
"The last time I checked with the hospital, she was," he responded.  
  
Taylor and Cliff turned to look at each other, their silent communication speaking volumes to anyone that knew the circumstances of the last six months. The silence helped Jeannie get herself under control, helped her break free of the fear that had gripped her for too long. "Right," she said briskly, standing up. "Cliff, Taylor, I want you to go get sweatshirts and Hannah. Make sure that she's dressed warmly," she admonished them, turning to the Officer as they scrambled to do her bidding. "Which hospital was she taken to?"  
  
"Cook County General, ma'am."  
  
She nodded and went to gather jackets for the entire group from the closet, handing them to the teenagers as they came down and taking a mostly asleep Hannah from Cliff so that he could put his on.  
  
"Jeannie?"  
  
"Yes, Hannah?" She asked the question softly, wanting the girl to wake up in her own time.  
  
"Where're we going?"  
  
"Aunt Zoe's been injured and we're going to the hospital," she told the little girl calmly; not mincing words to spare her feelings but also not allowing any of her own feelings to penetrate her voice. The last thing they needed was for Hannah to hear and react to any panic or fear.  
  
"Can't Cliff and Taylor stay with me while you go get her?"  
  
"We're not going to get her, Hannah," Cliff told her as he took her back from Jeannie and settled her again him with the ease of practice.  
  
Hannah's eyes widened, the little girl suddenly completely awake. "She's okay, right? Right?" Her voice was slightly panicked now as she obviously thought of her mother.  
  
"She will be," Taylor promised her sister, reaching out to run her fingers through Hannah's soft hair. "She will be," she repeated though whether it was to convince her younger sister, herself, or the other people in the room, she wasn't sure.  
  
Part Two  
  
Dan Lennox turned the television off with a quick flick of a finger before tossing the remote he held onto the cushion next to him. Eyeing the empty beer bottles that rested on the coffee table, he absently considered getting a third one. Deciding against it, he rose with a groan and put the empty bottles in the sink to be rinsed out and recycled. Stretching as if he were in the gym preparing for a workout, he loosened the muscles that had tightened with inactivity while he watched the recording of a football game he had taped earlier in the week. With a glance to the digital display that was on his microwave, he made his way back into the living room, sprawling on the sofa with abandon as he reached for the portable phone that rested atop his TV Guide. Zoe had mentioned earlier that she would call him when she was done, to let him know not to worry about the statement. At this time of night, she should have been finished long ago.  
  
Quickly dialing the number he wanted, he put the phone to his ear and waited for it to be picked up on the other end. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. He frowned, this time looking at the digital display on his VCR. It said the same time as his microwave, a little after 10:30. It was definitely late enough for her to be home, even late enough for her to not be distracted by the three children that made up her family. It was not, however, so late that she would be in bed, Dan having learnt in a few weeks of telephone calls that she was a night owl after his own heart, or that he would disturb the kids.  
  
The phone continued to ring until it was picked up by the answering machine. "Hi, you've reached the Busiek residence," his partner's chirpy voice sounded in his ear, "if you'd like to reach Zoe, Taylor, Cliff, or Hannah and want a call back, you know the drill!" Dan sighed as the beep sounded, hanging the phone up. Zoe wasn't at home? Where else could she be? Automatically telling the snide little voice in his head when it whispered the name of Marcos to him, he began to dial another, more familiar number. This time, after ringing twice, it was answered.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Zoe?" Dan frowned at the voice.  
  
"No, this is Jeannie Garrett," the feminine voice on the other end informed him.  
  
"I see," he said, not truly seeing at all. "Is Zoe around?" There was a pause before the voice, even softer than before, admitted that she wasn't. "What did you say your name was?"  
  
"Jeannie Garrett," she repeated, obviously resenting being asked. "What did you say your name was?"  
  
"I didn't," he answered dryly, attempting to place the familiar sounding name. "It's Dan Lennox."  
  
His first response was a gasp of surprise. "I see. I'm Zoe's neighbor, Mr. Lennox," she fully introduced herself and gave him the face to go with the name. "We only met once, when Taylor had run away."  
  
"I remember," he murmured quietly. "Are you sure Zoe's not around?"  
  
There was a quickly muffled sob before the voice came back on the line, sounding a little worse for wear. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Lennox."  
  
"She's not at home," he informed her before shaking his head. The woman was obviously familiar enough with Zoe to answer her cell phone, an item that his partner never let out of her possession in case one of the kids needed her, so wherever she was, Zoe could be found.  
  
"I'm aware of that," was the only response.  
  
"Do you know where she is?" He asked the question sarcastically; unsure of why the woman who had possession of Zoe's phone hadn't volunteered the information. Unless, of course, she always had men calling her at 10:30 at night and wondering where she was.  
  
"She's here," was the quiet answer.  
  
"But you can't put her on," he probed.  
  
"She's not here standing next to me," came the impatient response before the voice quieted to barely a whisper. "I mean she's here, in the hospital."  
  
Dan's impatience with the game that he had assumed Jeannie Garrett was playing drained away faster than the blood from his face. He began moving before he was even aware of it, his body moving automatically as his mind still reeled with the information overload. He knew Zoe, she wouldn't let any member of her family hang around the hospital with her unless it was serious. The fact that Jeannie Garrett, the neighbor and babysitter, was there meant that the kids were there. "What hospital are you at?"  
  
He pulled on a pair of battered gym shoes as he listened to Jeannie explain where in the hospital they were, thankful that he had no need to pause and write the directions down. One great side effect of both his past job and his current job was that he had a good memory for details. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised, hanging up as he stood up and walked through the apartment, pulling a leather jacket from the closet near the door and shrugging into it, automatically making sure that he had his keys, wallet, and cell phone.  
  
His cell phone. He made his way down the stairs of his apartment building, not wanting to wait for the elevator, and began dialing Sophia's home phone number. It was ringing while he slid behind the wheel of his car, all at once thankful that he hadn't decided to have that third beer.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Dan swallowed as he started the car. "Sophia?"  
  
"Dan?" Her voice reflected her shock at the phone call, which was not a normal thing even though they had worked together for years. It especially wasn't a normal thing that he was calling late at night. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Dan nodded, pulling out of his parking spot and beginning to make his way down the street. Abruptly realizing that his boss wouldn't be helped by the nonverbal reply he had made to a question voiced over the telephone, he gave a verbal response. "Yeah." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts so that he could explain what was going on. "I tried calling Zoe at her house tonight and she wasn't there," he started. "Then I called her cell. Jeannie Garrett answered it, remember her?"  
  
Sophia was silent for a moment before answering. "Zoe's neighbor, right? Middle-aged, still fit, watches the children for her when it's needed," she ticked off the relevant facts.  
  
"Right. They're all at the hospital, Sophia," he told her, cursing under his breath when he was caught by a red light and had to stop at an intersection.  
  
"The hospital?" When Dan didn't reply, she continued, "is it serious?"  
  
"I don't know," he admitted, "I didn't even ask. You know Zoe as well as I do," he trailed off, knowing that Sophia would fill in the blanks. The light had barely been green for a second when he entered the intersection, that much closer to the hospital.  
  
"And we both know that she'd never get Mrs. Garrett and the kids down to a hospital if it weren't. She wouldn't even admit that she was injured until after it was all under control and she was home, if at all possible."  
  
They were silent for a minute, both wondering just what had to happen for Zoe to keep from shielding the children against touchy subjects such as injury and mortality.  
  
"What hospital and where can I find you?"  
  
Dan smiled gratefully, thankful for the support. "Cook County General," he told Sophia. "I'm on my way there now." He proceeded to give her the same directions that he himself had gotten before hanging up and concentrating on his driving as much as he could.  
  
Part Three  
  
Sophia Mason stared down at the phone she held, aware of her fiancée's concerned voice in the background. Finally realizing that sitting on the sofa in silence wouldn't get her any closer to helping Zoe, Dan, or anyone else at the hospital, she got up from the sofa with an apologetic smile towards her fiancée. "That was Dan, there's been a problem with a friend of ours," she explained before hurrying into the bedroom to find warmer clothes. She reached automatically a sweater, slipping it over the white T- shirt she wore, listening to her fiancée and responding when necessary.  
  
"I got that," Peter called from the other room, where there were sounds of him moving things around. "What's wrong?"  
  
"He didn't know any details," she responded, coming out of the bedroom to find the coffee table straightened, VCR and television off, and Peter standing in the middle of the room wearing his jacket and holding her car keys. "Peter, you don't have to come," she told him, knowing that he'd had a rough shift as medical student that day.  
  
"I know," he responded with a smile as he pulled her close to him and gave her a hug. "I want to, baby." When she smiled gratefully at him he gave her a quick kiss and began to usher her to the door of the apartment. "What hospital are they at?"  
  
"Cook County General," she answered, watching as he grimaced.  
  
"Well, I didn't want to go back there so soon," he told her with regret in his voice, as that was the hospital he had been accepted as a med student to. "But I do know all the good vending machines, which rooms we can crash in and not get disturbed and I have an 'in' with the staff," he told her, looking on the bright side and making her laugh.  
  
"That's how you look at it," she told him as she settled into the passenger seat of the car, grateful that she wouldn't have to try concentrating on driving and the late night Chicago traffic. Instead, as the car was put into motion, she stared out at the passing scenery without truly seeing it.  
  
Sometimes bad thing happened to good people. It was a cliché, but sayings became clichés for one reason: they were true. The very circumstances in which she had met Zoe Busiek were proof of it, had Sophia needed any. Her sister dies, leaving her as guardian to three children, and causing her to move from Las Vegas to Chicago to care for them. She investigates her sister's death, uncovering a tangled web of lies that proved that Sue Busiek had not caused the accident that ultimately caused her death, and is given a job as a fraud investigator with the company.  
  
At least Zoe had practice landing on her feet after the rug was pulled out from underneath her.  
  
To be entirely honest, when she and Zoe had talked the night that she had dropped the file off for the rookie, Sophia hadn't fully agreed with what the younger woman had said. Oh, she'd understood that meeting Peter then and falling in love with him couldn't have been planned and that Zoe lived her life without having plans, but that was the extent of it. She had enjoyed spending time with the other woman, not having very many friends outside of work, especially girlfriends that you could sit and talk about anything and everything under the sun with while drinking a bottle or two of wine. It wasn't until later that she had thought about what Zoe had said:  
  
That they were completely alike...in opposite ways.  
  
On the surface, the statement sounded ludicrous, absolutely unbelievable. Especially if you take into account the two women that it was about. Sophia Mason and Zoe Busiek, completely alike? No one who looked at the surface, the facades they presented to the world, would believe that. Sophia was a planner that always carefully considered the consequences before jumping into any decision while Zoe was a risk taker and absolutely adored life, making important decisions with a simple snap of her fingers. Even getting past that, to something more superficial but nevertheless an accurate show of their personalities, you had to deal with their clothes. Sophia's careful lifestyle was shown through suits and basic colors, traditional working wear that no one could find fault in; Zoe, on the other hand, while always looking great, preferred bright colors and style, often showing up to work in a pair of jeans or boots of some type.  
  
Completely alike but in opposite ways.  
  
They were, Sophia admitted to herself. They got along great, often taking breaks together at work to talk and catch up with each other's lives. To swap stories from before they had met and see how the other half lived. Zoe got to hear about what it was like to be the quintessential 'good girl' while Sophia had gotten to vicariously live through the experiences of a 'bad girl.' Sophia and Peter had both been invited over to the Busiek household for dinner, becoming semi-regular guests that were welcomed by the entire family, and on some nights Sophia went alone, waiting until the children were in their rooms while she and Zoe had ate buttered popcorn and fattening foods, drank wine, and bonded over chick flicks.  
  
To Sophia, who was an only child, Zoe felt like a sister, though she had never told the other woman because of any bad memories of Sue that the statement might arouse. She had often dreamed of having a sister, either older or younger, and the camaraderie she felt with Zoe was what she had always imagined she would feel with a sibling.  
  
She became aware that she was being guided into a bright room that was bustling with people, the automatic doors that she had passed through sliding shut and leaving the brisk night air where it belonged. She blinked, looking around at her surroundings as she realized that she had no recollection of either the ride over or the walk from the car to his building. She was peripherally aware of people calling greetings to Peter as he led her towards the elevators. They entered it together, stepping aside as a harried looking nurse stepped on with them. The nurse pushed her floor button and looked towards them in inquiry.  
  
"We're going up to surgery," Peter told her, smiling as she nodded and punched the appropriate button.  
  
The elevator ride was slow, as it always was in that building, and they exited it to head to the small grouping of waiting rooms. Sophia broke into a relieved smile as they approached them, seeing Dan standing in the hallway not very far away from them. Her smile quickly faded, however, when she noticed that he was talking to a pair of police officers and that the conversation was upsetting him. As they drew closer, she could just begin to make out that they were having an argument, the low volume doing nothing to mask the emotions in her friend's voice. By the time she and Peter were close enough to hear the words being spoken, it was over and the officers had left Dan standing alone in the hallway.  
  
She watched silently as he slumped against the white wall and she motioned for Peter to go ahead without her while she stayed with Dan until he was ready to go into the waiting room. Peter nodded and squeezed her hand slightly, letting her know without saying a word that he'd be there for her if she needed him. When Peter had checked the two waiting rooms, finding the second one occupied by the people they were looking for, he ducked into it so that he could talk with Jeannie Garrett about Zoe's injuries. If anyone would be able to explain them, it would be the med student.  
  
"Dan?"  
  
He looked up slowly, one hand rising to rub the back of his neck tiredly. "Hey, Sophia. Been here long?"  
  
"No, just a few minutes," she answered, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He smiled gratefully at the show of support and put her hand on top of his.  
  
"You never told me what her injuries were," Sophia gently rebuked him, "or even how she got them."  
  
"I didn't know when I called," he defended himself. "I guess I was so," he paused, searching for the right word, "shell-shocked that I forgot to ask Jeannie."  
  
"Can you tell me them now?" She asked the question gently, knowing that she could get the answer just as easily from Jeannie or even Peter once he had talked to her, but wanting to let Dan know that he could talk to her if he wanted.  
  
"She was shot," he stated just as baldly as the officer had at the Busiek home earlier in the evening. "Broken ribs, cracked ribs, one of her lungs collapsed and had to be re-inflated. They're taking the bullet out now and doing exploratory surgery for internal bleeding," he informed her, his head falling back onto the wall. "Jeannie said something about the doc mentioning the possibility of having to take out a part of her lung, but they weren't sure."  
  
Sophia was silent for the listing of Zoe's injuries and remained that way after Dan had finished. Her first response had been one of overwhelming relief: she knew enough through Peter and her own curiosity into medical things that Zoe could have been injured much worse. She was well aware, however, that it was a sentiment that Dan wouldn't share with her.  
  
"God, how could I have been so stupid?"  
  
Sophia looked over at Dan, her face clearly showing how startled she was by the sentiment. "What?"  
  
"I should've known better," he informed her, abruptly pushing himself away from the wall and walking down the hall in the opposite direction of the waiting rooms. "All of this was my fault, Sophia," he said through gritted teeth as she quickly fell into step beside him, having to walk quickly to match his strides.  
  
"How is it your fault, Dan?"  
  
"The robbery case, the one with the stolen camera equipment," he reminded her of it, though she had given it to them and already knew. "I wanted to get home for a game tonight and asked her if she'd be willing to take a final statement from the owner."  
  
"And that's when she was shot," Sophia realized with understanding.  
  
"And that's when she was shot," he agreed. "Like she hasn't been through enough," he muttered more to himself to her before raising his voice slightly, "like those kids haven't been through enough!"  
  
Sophia reached out to touch his shoulder again, startled when he shrugged away from the touch. It was then that she understood exactly why they had made the short journey to the end of the hall: so that Dan wouldn't be near any of Zoe's children and none of them would overhear exactly how and why their aunt had been injured. "Dan," she said gently, "it wasn't your fault."  
  
"What do you mean it wasn't my fault?" he questioned angrily. "I'm the reason she was there!"  
  
"You asked her to do you a favor, take a statement for you. She didn't have to, did she?" She wasn't entirely sure that what she was doing was right, but she couldn't let one of her friends bury himself in guilt.  
  
"No," he admitted, remembering that Zoe hadn't wanted to but eventually decided to for some reason.  
  
"You didn't tell her go to this place or that place and get injured. She was doing you a favor. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," she soothed. "Just like hundreds of other people around the world every single day, it was a simple quirk of fate."  
  
Dan sighed, once again rubbing his neck. "I know that, Sophia. Logically, I know that. I'm just not feeling very logical right now," he admitted. "It doesn't matter how logical it is or what you or Jeannie or anyone else says: it still feels like it's my fault. I asked her to take the statement, I'm the one that should have been there instead of her and because I wasn't, she got shot. It's my fault."  
  
There was a strangled noise beside them in the hall and both Dan and Sophia looked up to see Marcos an instant before pain exploded across Dan's jaw.  
  
Part Four  
  
Marcos Morales glared at the other man as he staggered back under the unexpected blow.  
  
"What the hell was that for?" Dan shouted at Marcos, the raised voice earning the small group more than a few glances their way.  
  
"It was your fault that she got shot," he half stated, half questioned, shrugging away from the feminine hand he could feel on his shoulder.  
  
Sophia sighed in exasperation. "Not this again. Do I need to give you the whole 'wrong place, wrong time' speech as well?"  
  
The other woman in the group laughed slightly at Sophia's tired but stern voice that would not have been out of place on a schoolteacher. When Sophia turned questioning eyes on her, she held out a hand. "Melissa Kendrick," she introduced herself.  
  
Sophia accepted it with a small smile. "Sophia Mason. The one checking his jaw for damage is Dan Lennox."  
  
Dan, who had indeed been probing for tenderness and flexing his jaw to make sure it worked properly, glaring at the school teacher-cum-coach that packed a better punch than it looked like he would, glared over at the women. Sophia waved it away, having long since gotten used to it, but when the unfamiliar woman waved uncertainly, his glare softened slightly. "Miss Kendrick," he greeted her as politely as if he hadn't just been punched and yelled at someone.  
  
"Call me Missi," she responded automatically.  
  
"Are you two going to play nice?" Sophia asked them, not wanting them to get violent when enclosed in a small waiting room together.  
  
"That depends on what he says when he explains how it was his fault Zoe got shot," Marcos responded angrily. He hadn't believed it when Cliff had paged him over an hour ago. It had taken him thirty minutes to actually respond to the page, calling Zoe's cell phone as that was the number left. When he had, instead of Zoe as he had expected, he had gotten Cliff who'd explained that Zoe was in the hospital after having been shot and he'd thought Marcos would like to know.  
  
The boy had been calm during the phone call, too calm. Instead of the normal inflections in his voice, it had been flat, almost entirely unemotional, but Marcos knew Cliff well and had been able to read the emotions under the layer of calmness. He had immediately told his date for the night that he was need elsewhere, explaining that Zoe and the Busieks needed his help with something. He'd been uncomfortably aware of a flicker of something he didn't want to name when he'd mentioned Zoe's name. Possessiveness? Jealousy? Or was it some other feminine secret that no man in his right mind wanted to know? It had quickly disappeared when he had gone on to tell her that Zoe had been injured and was in the hospital.  
  
He'd offered to stop by her apartment to let her off after their date, but Missi had insisted on going with him to the hospital, telling him that she could be a fetch and carry girl at the very least. He hadn't been entirely comfortable with the idea of her being there but also hadn't been able to think of a reason she shouldn't be that wouldn't hurt her feelings.  
  
"It wasn't Dan's fault," Sophia informed Marcos before looking at Dan sternly, "no matter what he may think."  
  
"He just said it was," Marcos pointed out.  
  
"You eavesdrop too? Is there no limit to your skills," Dan asked sarcastically, tensing when Marcos took a threatening step towards him. There was no way that he'd be caught off guard again when it came to the other man.  
  
"Oh, will you two just quit it," Missi snapped, stepping between them. "None of this is going to help. Cliff and his sisters need support right now, not a lot of tension. I can also promise you that if you two get into a fight in this hospital you'll be thrown out. You won't be able to do much good to anyone then." They both looked at her and she lightly hit Marcos on the arm in warning. "No more violence," she warned him. "I can't believe you hit him! What if one of the kids had seen?"  
  
Sophia looked first at the two chastised men and then to Missi with dawning respect in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry and was answered by a quick grin, wink, and a shrug. "Why don't we go to the waiting room now," she suggested. "Maybe they've heard something new."  
  
Marcos shook his head and planted his feet, obviously not intending to move until he got some answers. "I want to know why he thinks it's his fault."  
  
"So you can blame him?" Missi charged, sighing when Marcos didn't deny the claim. She looked to Sophia, wondering if between the two of them they could get the men into the waiting room without another confrontation.  
  
Sophia, not wanting to get into another guilt-ridden conversation with Dan in the hallway, there would be time enough for that in another place, let alone in front of a man who obviously blamed him as much as Dan did himself, shook her head. "Jeannie and the kids are in the waiting room," she reminded Marcos. "We're here to support them and get news on Zoe."  
  
"It was my case," Dan admitted quietly to him, shocking Sophia, who had expected him to refuse to answer any of Marcos' questions. There was no love lost between the two men, Dan's wanting to date Zoe and his jealousy regarding Marcos being transparent to everyone but Zoe herself. "I asked her to take the statement, it was then that she got hurt."  
  
Missi tugged on Marcos' arm, dragging his attention from the other man to her. "Now you know," she told him. "Can we go to the waiting room now?"  
  
He nodded, docilely following her and Sophia down the hall, aware that Dan was doing the same. Just before they reached the door to the waiting room, Marcos put a hand on Dan's shoulder, stopping him from moving forward. The other man tensed slightly, obviously expecting another hit, either verbal or physical, but met his eyes squarely, the blue eyes reflecting the guilt and anguish and love that Dan felt.  
  
"It wasn't your fault," he said quietly, squeezing the shoulder beneath his hand before continuing into the waiting room.  
  
Part Five  
  
The waiting room was rather typical: peach walls attempting to offer a bit of warmth, their peach blandness broken by hotel standard pictures, somewhat comfortable sofas for seating, a few low tables with outdated magazines scattered over the tops, and a television mounted to the wall. The room was lit by an assortment of table lamps instead of harsh overhead lights, another attempt by the decorators to offer a haven for worried family members.  
  
Tonight the gentle glow washed over the Busiek family and friends. Jeannie was sitting on one end of the longer sofa with Taylor's head in her lap as the teen stretched across two cushions and her feet hung over the arm. Curled up on top of Taylor lay her younger sister, crystalline tear tracks marking her tired, worry-filled face, though the little girl stubbornly refused to sleep. Peter sat on one of the flanking sofas, one of the pair that had only two cushions, close to Jeannie as he reassured her. Sophia and Dan occupied the other one talking quietly, which was across the room, while Cliff was sitting on the floor underneath the television also talking quietly to Marcos. The one person that seemed unsure of her welcome was Missi, who constantly left the room to use the restroom or get some water from the fountain that was a few steps from the doorway. She had also volunteered to get coffee or hot chocolate from the diner located across the street from the hospital.  
  
"I work here," Peter once again reminded Jeannie. "I know who the good doctors are and Elizabeth Corday is one of the best," he assured her. The older woman said nothing, merely looking at Peter as if asking whether or not he would admit it anything if the female doctor were the worst he'd ever seen. "I'll go see if I can find out anything new," he finally said, rising from his seat and starting towards the door with a glance to Sophia. He had just made it out of the room and into the hall on his short trek to the nurses' station for an update when he noticed a familiar figure striding towards him. "Dr. Corday," he called, greeting her with a nod.  
  
The British woman nodded back before speaking. "The ER is now sending up their med students when they want a consult?" she questioned with a weary smile. "I'm afraid that I have to talk to a patients' family, Dr. Wentworth. After that I'll be happy to do it."  
  
"Oh, that's not why I'm here," he answered as he began walking with her back to the room he had just left. "My fiancée and I are friends of your patient, Zoe Busiek. I was going to get another update. Let me tell you, I have a whole new appreciation for what families go through in waiting rooms."  
  
"Hmm," she murmured the sound of agreement, allowing him to escort her to where the others were waiting.  
  
He opened the door to the room and allowed her to go in first. All occupants of the room looked towards the, straightening or standing up. The only two who didn't were Hannah, who had finally fallen into a light sleep, and Taylor, who lifted her head so that Jeannie could stand but remained as Hannah's mattress.  
  
Corday stepped forward, introducing herself and shaking the adults' hands before getting down to business. "Would you like me to impress you with my knowledge or for me to tell you straight?" she asked with no preamble.  
  
"Straight," was instantly chorused through the room.  
  
"Zoe was badly injured and her recovery will seem slow at times, but she will recover. We found no evidence of internal bleeding and removed the bullet with a minimum of fuss. She's in recovery right now."  
  
"Can we see her?" Hannah, the little girl having woken up at the sound of a new voice, quietly asked the question. She pushed herself up from Taylor with one hand, the other sleepily rubbing at her eyes.  
  
"Not while she's in recovery," Corday informed her, softening her normally brisk tone as she addressed the little girl. "Once she's moved to her room you'll be able to. That should be in a few hours."  
  
"Oh." The little girl said quietly before succumbing to gravity and falling back onto her human mattress, earning an 'oof!' from Taylor.  
  
Corday smiled at the little girl before leaving, telling everyone that a nurse would find them when she was moved and receiving thanks.  
  
Jeannie sat back down, once again providing a cushion for Taylor's head, as Cliff moved to the sofa and hugged his sisters while being careful not to disturb Hannah too much. "Aunt Zoe's going to be okay," he repeated happily, the relief in his voice telling the adults just how worried he had been that another family member was going to die.  
  
The wait for Zoe to be settled into her own room instead of into recovery had all of them on tenterhooks. Before they had been worried, waiting for news or life or death and each time someone had opened the door to the waiting room or could be heard walking past, each person had tensed against they what they hoped not to hear, bracing themselves for bad news. Now they knew that she would be all right and were waiting to be able to see her, see with their own eyes that she was very much of the living. It was a definite toss-up between which was worse.  
  
After another long stretch of time the door was once more opened, this time by a nurse who would take them to Zoe's room. They all made the trek together, Cliff carrying Hannah for Taylor. The family members slipped into the room first, the door partially closing to give them some privacy but still allowing the occupants of the hall to hear the joyful reunion. Hannah had once again begun crying once she saw her aunt and both of the older teenagers were emotional, to say nothing of their neighbor.  
  
There was a large window at both ends of the hall and they were close to one of them, the sky outside it beginning to lighten as the sun rose in the sky. "And the darkest hour," Sophia murmured, resting her head on Peter's shoulder.  
  
A good twenty, thirty minutes later, none of the people in the hallway having consulted their watches, Jeannie and the two older kids exited Zoe's room and smiled.  
  
"She's groggy and in pain but somewhat awake," Jeannie informed them as she stopped. "Do you mind if we run across the street really fast? Cliff and Taylor are getting hungry," she explained. "I could do with some coffee and a snack myself," she admitted. "After that we'll go home and get some sleep in our own beds before coming back. She'll be less out of it then."  
  
Peter and Missi joined them, letting the three friends go into Zoe's room alone. "I'll show you the way," Peter said with a smile before turning to Sophia and Dan. "Can I get you anything?"  
  
"Coffee?" Sophia asked hopefully.  
  
Peter laughed and shook his head slightly. "That was a given. What about something food-wise?"  
  
"Surprise me," she answered before looking over to Dan. "Surprise him too."  
  
Peter nodded as Missi asked Marcos if she could pick anything up for him and got a negative response. The group turned and left, leaving the others standing in the hallway. After a moment, Dan stepped forward.  
  
"Zoe?" He moved into the room quietly, relief at finally being able to see his partner warring with guilt that he was essentially the person who had put her in the hospital. She was laying on her back with Hannah curled up next to her, white sheets wrinkled by both occupants of the bed. The little girl's cheeks were still stained with tears from her earlier bouts of sobbing and her head rested on Zoe's shoulder. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, as he looked at the fragile woman, automatically comparing her to the larger-than-life, full-of-life persona that she normally showed the world. He was just about to leave the hospital room, not wanting to disturb either of the room's occupants, when Zoe opened her eyes.  
  
"Hey," she responded in a quiet voice, causing him to move closer to the bed. Sophia and Marcos, both of whom had entered the room a step behind him, moved with him.  
  
"Hey, partner," he greeted with a shadow of his normal trademark grin. It wasn't much of one, but it was something and the effort to do even that much drained him. "How're you feeling?" He shook his head slightly at the inane question, mentally kicking himself for his stupidity.  
  
"Like I've been shot," she responded wryly, the words both slow and slurred as a result of the medications she had been given. A faint smile graced her lips before it turned into a grimace of pain.  
  
"We'll find who did this," he promised as he reached a hand towards the bed and gently ran his fingers down one cheek. "Sophia and I are already planning on working with the police. We didn't want to do anything like leave the hospital until we knew for sure you'd be okay."  
  
She nodded slightly, her eyes closing. When the small group began to move away from the bed, her eyes fluttered open again. "Dan?"  
  
"Yeah, Zoe?"  
  
"Stay?"  
  
"Of course," he responded, moving over to where the chairs were. He pulled one of them closer to the bed and settled himself into it, his hand automatically reaching for one of Zoe's. "I'll stay just as long as you want," he promised as he watched her drift off to a healing sleep, unaware of Sophia leaving the room, guiding Marcos as she went.  
  
*  
  
End  
  
*  
  
Reviews are welcome!  
  
An additional note: I don't have a sequel to this planned, but knowing my muses as I do (and adding in the fact that I've already gotten a couple nice scene ideas for it), there's about a 50-50 chance of one being written. What are your thoughts on it? Would you [as a reader] enjoy a sequel? If it does get written, would anyone actually read it? 


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